


unforeseen consequences

by everlarklane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death Eater Draco Malfoy, Death Eaters, Don't join terrorist groups kids!, Gen, Or supremacist movements, same thing really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:27:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27397963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everlarklane/pseuds/everlarklane
Summary: draco malfoy begins to realize exactly what he's gotten himself into. turns out joining a terrorist group has unforeseen consequences. he just never thought that he would be one of them.
Kudos: 7





	unforeseen consequences

He turned to the next page, the sound sharp inside of a room otherwise subdued but for the crackling of the fireplace and the sound of the grandfather clock ticking. 

There was a warmth to the room that crawled deep into his bones and sat there, quiet and waiting. For what, he didn’t know, but he was content to let it rest and rest it did. 

He’d made a mistake, he knew, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to rise from this soft chair or from this heavy warmth. 

The clock ticked and he turned to the next page once more. 

He was content to let the heat rest, he told himself, his eyes straying from the pages towards the flames. He was comfortable and the room was warm and yet not cloying, not claustrophobic. There was no reason to rise. 

He turned another page and his eyes didn’t take in a single word, focused as they were on the dancing flames, licking at each other like dogs meeting at a park. 

His bones itched and he snapped the book shut, rising to his feet in one sharp, jagged motion, a lightning bolt carving through the sky and he rocked back on his heels, catching himself. 

What was he doing? 

What had he  _ done?  _

The heat itched inside of his bones, a gnawing, scratching urge to do something, anything and he realized quickly that it was fanning into an inferno, burning up his stomach. 

His arms ached, the tattoo branded onto his skin hot and inflamed and Draco punched the wall like some sort of muggle, his shoulders heaving. 

His nose dripped and with trembling fingers he wiped it away with his handkerchief. Sniveling like some kind of child, he was, the itching inferno suddenly draining away from him and leaving a burnt out husk deep in the pit of his stomach. 

He didn’t think it would be like this. He’d thought it was noble, that he was doing the right thing, that it didn’t matter if, abstractly, a few eggs got cracked along the way. It wasn’t like mudbloods and muggles were worth all that much anyway. 

Except now he had a death sentence hanging above his head and he was the peer with his throat stretched out on the line. An impossible task, a Sisyphus that only had one chance to try and roll a boulder up a hill before he was inevitably and permanently smashed flat. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

He collapsed in the chair and the heat wound around him, a warning, a flag. It nestled in close to his lungs, his throats, his eyes burning and the emptiness growing. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 


End file.
